Your Innocence is Mine
by Vanillasiren
Summary: For her, it was because she wanted to feel something other than pain. For him, it was because her innocence was his to take. Set some time after the flashback sequences in Season 2, Episode 5, "The Doctor."


Your Innocence is Mine

Author's Note: Set sometime after the flashback sequences in Season 2, Episode 5, "The Doctor." People, you cannot _possibly_ be surprised at the direction this story takes. I've been dancing around it, building up to it… and now, yes, we're finally going there. Do tell me what you think, dearies. ;)

For her, it was because she wanted to feel something other than pain.

For him, it was because her innocence was his to take.

She dresses all in black now, at least when she's with him. She struts and sneers and plots with the best of them. Most importantly, she has ripped out a heart, held in her hand, and mercilessly crushed it into dust.

So why does she somehow still seem … innocent?

Especially when he knows that _nothing is innocent_ …

"That was masterfully done, my apprentice," he says, at the end of their latest lesson. He waits for her face to light up at his praise, as it usually does, but instead, she barely nods in acknowledgement of the compliment, and he feels strangely deflated at her indifference.

"In a bit of a mood, are we?"

Regina sighs. "It's just that … the king returns home tonight."

"Ah yes." Rumplestiltskin had heard King Leopold was off making some sort of pilgrimage or another. Rumor had it that every year around this time, he traveled to the place where he had met Snow White's mother, to reflect on and remember his one true love. It seems rather bad form to do so now, with a new bride at home, but then, he supposes Regina doesn't really mind.

"And what of that, dearie? You knew he had to come back eventually. Or were you hoping he'd meet with some sort of … accident on the road?"

Her dark eyes glitter at him, and she gives him a feral smile_. Ah, now_ there's _my wicked one_. "Maybe," she says, and he giggles.

"Well, don't lose hope my dear. He's not a young man. I'm sure time will make a widow of you sooner rather than later."

"Not soon enough."

"Oh? And just what makes the matter so urgent, hmm?" He knows Regina has no love for her husband, but at the same time, she seems to be settling into the role of queen admirably, and gaining favor with the people.

Regina looks down. "It's just … tonight, he'll want to …" Her face reddens. How on earth can she seem so wicked one moment and so guileless the next? It baffles him.

In any case, he takes her meaning. "And how's that different from any other night, dearie? You are his wife, after all. I would imagine you're growing used to it by now … unless …" She looks up at him then, and he comes to a realization. "Wait … do you mean to say, he hasn't actually … taken his marital privileges with you yet?"

If he was baffled before, he's absolutely flabbergasted now. What on earth could the man be thinking? What could possibly be stopping him from bedding a woman like Regina the first chance he got?

"The first night, after the wedding … he … we uh …" Regina stammers, her face growing redder. "He ah … tried, but … he was too drunk." She remembers Leopold pushing her onto the bed, after the two of them had stumbled and staggered into the room. He seemed almost as nervous as she was. His hands were clumsy, though his touch was not unkind. Still, it didn't help that everything felt so awkward and passionless between them, and oh how she'd just wanted to ask him to _please stop_ but she knew she couldn't, he was her husband now, and she could not refuse him. So she'd closed her eyes and lay there prone, hoping it would be quick. He'd gotten on top of her, and then …

And then, nothing had happened.

After a moment, he'd rolled off of her, muttering something about the wine and his age and gods knew what else. She forgot what she said to him in response, but it had been something conciliatory, a feeble attempt to mitigate any embarrassment he might have felt, and she hoped he hadn't been able to hear the relief in her voice. And since that first night, he seemed to have lost his nerve with her.

But after his journey, he had promised, things would be different. They would be better, he had told her, gently squeezing her hand before he had departed. Regina had given him her brightest, falsest smile, and she'd nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

It wasn't until he'd been well on his way, and she was secluded in the privacy of her chambers, that she'd allowed herself to dissolve into a mass of angry, frightened tears.

Her lessons with Rumplestiltskin had kept her mind off the king's imminent return, but now the hour is upon her, and she meets the incredulous gaze of her teacher with a heavy heart.

"He said it would be different when he got back," she tells him flatly.

"Ah." If she didn't know any better, she might have thought Rumplestiltskin actually felt uncomfortable discussing this. "Well then dearie … best to just close your eyes and let him get it over with."

Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying.

How he hatesit when she cries. It makes him feel … human.

"I don't want it to be him," she whispers.

"He's your _husband_, Regina."

"I wanted it to be Daniel. It was _supposed_ to be Daniel. It could have been – at least I would have had that – but he was … _decent_, honorable, and he wanted to wait until we were married. And now, I have to … my first time … with …" Her tears are flowing freely now.

"Stop it," he snaps at her, which only makes her cry harder. Damn it, he can't have this. He can't have her all sad and soft and frightened, he needs her to be strong and wicked like she was that day, heart in hand, sneer in place. He can't have her be weak.

It might be catching.

"Regina, stop crying, please." He doesn't remember putting his arms around her. "Gods, just stop it, will you?"

Her face is pressed against his chest. He waits for her sobs to subside before he pulls back, and that's when she tries to kiss him.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"I don't want it to be him," she repeats tremulously.

"No, you want it to be your Daniel, your sweet simple stable boy," he snaps. She flinches, and he tells himself he doesn't care. "But he's dead."

"Yes," she says, her voice growing hard. "He's dead, and you were right, I wasn't able to bring him back. So I suppose _you'll _have to do, you twisted little imp. Though you're not half the man he was."

"Oh I'm not a man at all, dearie. I'm a monster, a _beast_. Never forget that." She should quail at the dark tone in his voice – anyone else would – but his wicked one just smiles archly.

"Oh, I'd say you're a man where it counts, Rumple," she whispers, pressing her body to his, and both of them can feel how he responds to that.

_Damn her._

"I don't recall giving you permission to address me like that –"

"I've seen the way you look at me," she continues, unheeding. If she's trying for a sultry tone, she's not quite managing it. Which still doesn't stop her from being entirely too appealing. "Not to mention I couldn't help but notice how buxom my little replacement was … before I ripped her heart out." She flashes her teeth at him. "So don't pretend you're immune to desire. And don't pretend you don't want me."

"You're a virgin, Regina."

"Yes, I think we've established that. So?"

Their eyes lock, and she sees something in his that make her let go of him.

The worst part, though, is when she starts laughing.

"You – I've seen you rip hearts out and crush them, and do a dozen other things too horrible to name – but you balk at _this_? Taking my virginity?"

"Shut up –"

"Well my, my, my, who knew the Dark One could be so _gallant_? But surely you can't still think me of me as some kind, gentle maiden, _Rumple_. Not after all you've taught me to do –"

"Shut the hell up!"

"Do you want me to beg?" She whispers fiercely. "Is that it? Would _that_ arouse your passion? Is that what you want, would you like that, you twisted little imp, you sick fu –"

So he grabs her, and crushes her mouth with his. Just because he can't stand to hear her mocking him anymore.

This is not like Leopold's awkward, sloppy kisses, and it's nothing like Daniel's soft, gentle ones. This kiss is hard and demanding, and his tongue plunges into her mouth, and _oh_ ….

"Is this what _you_ want, my wicked one? Hmm, hmm?" He hisses in her ear, and moves to devour her neck. It isn't long before their mouths meet again, hungrily.

"Yes," she breathes, in between kisses. "Oh yes."

He's not Daniel. No one in the world will ever be her Daniel, and nothing will ever fill the hole that he left in her heart.

But … but it feels _good_, damn it, and his touch excites her in way Leopold's never could, and if she's going to lose her maidenhood tonight, one way or the other, then she'd rather it be here, now, like this.

Perhaps it's not the wisest choice. But at least this way, it's her choice to make.

Regina wraps her legs around his waist, and he carries her to the bedroom, their clothes dropping to the floor along the way.

He tosses her unceremoniously on the bed and then joins her, molding his body to hers, and she thinks the heat between them is going to drive her to madness. His hands cup her breasts possessively, and she whimpers into his mouth as her nipples grow hard and sensitive under his touch.

When his mouth closes around one of them, she lets out a moan, a hot surge of pleasure coursing through her.

But it's nothing compared to when his hand snakes down between them, teethed bared in a feral grin at the evidence of her arousal, and he begins to pleasure her.

She moans again, louder this time, her hips bucking. When his hand withdraws, she whimpers in protest. She looks up to ask why he's stopped, and reads the answer in his expression. Despite her excitement, she can't help but be a little apprehensive.

"Just try and relax," he whispers, his voice surprisingly gentle.

She nods. He kisses her, more softly this time, and they begin.

Instinct is telling him – screaming at him – to just ravish her, but instead he enters her slowly, easing his way inside her, giving her body time to adjust to him. There is a little bit of pain, to be sure, but as he guides her into his rhythm, it quickly fades away, to be replaced a pleasure that just keeps building, building, _building_ to an intensity that takes her breath away …

"Oh Rumple," she moans, writhing beneath him, helpless with pleasure.

"Regina," he gasps, rocking on top of her, and for the first time since she met him, he doesn't seem to be completely in control.

Their movements grow more frenzied, more frantic, with each thrust, and then finally she's at the peak of her pleasure, and she comes, screaming wordlessly in his arms, her climax spurring his own, as he releases deep inside her.

They lay there, sated, a tangled mass of heavy limbs, trying to catch their breath. Just as the weight of him on her begins to feel oppressive, he rolls off of her and onto his side.

After a moment, Regina begins to laugh. This time, it doesn't seem to bother him.

"And what's so amusing, hmm?"

"Nothing." She looks over at him, and pauses. For a moment, he somehow looks more … human. She blinks, and his appearance reverts to normal, making her think she must have imagined it, or else it was some strange trick of the light. She licks her lips. "It's just … that felt _good_."

"Well, that is the general idea with this sort of thing, my wicked one."

_My wicked one._ Not just _dearie_, like he's always called her and everyone else.

"I don't recall giving you permission to address me like that."

He giggles. "A thousand pardons, your majesty."

Her smile fades at that. "I have to go soon, don't I?"

"Yes, you do."

Impulsively, she curls into him, resting her head on his chest. She fears he'll pull away, but instead, he seems content to let them remain like this, if only for a moment.

"You smell like apples," he mutters into her hair. "You always smell like apples, Regina." She's not sure if that's a compliment, until he adds, "I rather like it."

He feels her smile against his skin.

In the end, it was more of a practical matter than anything else, he tells himself. After all, she can hardly be the Evil Queen who wields the Dark Curse if she's still an unsullied virgin girl. And what more appropriate way to lose that last vestige of her so-called innocence than to him, Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One? Just because he … _enjoys_ her, doesn't make her any less of a means to an end.

And it doesn't bother him in the slightest that when she slips out of his bed, he knows she will soon be slipping into Leopold's. He's schooled her in magic, in cruelty, in deceit, and now he's schooled her in lust as well. Seduction is just another weapon he wants her to have in her arsenal.

But then, he suspects Regina could seduce a man just by breathing.

It was a fair deal, reminds himself. A mutually beneficial exchange for both of them.

Regina got a brief respite from her heartache.

And Rumplestiltskin got the last sweet shred of her supposed innocence.

That's all it was, and all it would ever be. And it only ever happened between them that one time.

Except of course, for all the _other _times that it happened between them. Because if magic is power, and if power corrupts too slowly, well then, lust consumes the light faster, and their dark desires have a sort of magic that is all their own.


End file.
